All Rockers go to heaven
by Rent-Fanfictions
Summary: He choked and kicked as he was held over the side, his eyes wide with fear. "You have been nothing but selfish, and disrespectful to those who loved you... you were ungrateful and rude in your final hours..." The man glared down at him "Roger Davis..." he began, eyes narrowed. "If you had the chance to redeem yourself... to undo what was done... to make things right... would you?"
1. Chapter 1

**Authors note: Hey guys! Kris here!**

**I know I owe another chapter of Vous sont manquant à partir de moi, but This is a new chaptered fic im starting. Vous sont manquant à partir de moi is getting ready to head around the bend towards closing, and alot more chapters are coming, no worries, but I had to write this one. This is also gonna give you guys something to read while you wait for the other. I never do two chapter fics at once, but I wanna challenge myself. Patience, though, Updates will come!**

**Its so funny how I got the idea for this. I went to bed last night, upset at how I had writers block, and I had a dream about this. Stuff in here is actually right from my dream, and though my alarm went off before I could have any good details, I was able to have enough of a skeleton to plug in the pieces for details! enjoy! this one is gonna be full of angst! please let me know what you think! im working on chapter two as we speak!**

**For right now, its going to remain as friendship, but I warn you, by the end, it will be romance. Mark/Roger. If you dont like it, dont follow it.**

**Also, this has nothing to do with all dogs go to heaven. I haven't seen that movie since I was like five, but for the idea of this fic, I thought the title was clever, and it just fit. I hope you enjoy! I dont own Rent or any characters from it. **

**I dedicate this fic to my two favorite Rent-heads in the world. Toni (kisstheboy7) and Nic 3 I love you both more than I can put into words! This has been a PSA. -krisrog out-**

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Mark Cohen wandered around the empty apartment complex by himself, surveying the different places with a heavy sense of indifference. He pulled Roger's worn leather jacket around himself more tightly as he felt a sudden chill sweep past from around him. Walking through the small court yard, he was about to pull out his camera, but stopped himself. What was the point anymore? he had no desire to finish his film.

The chill in the air suggested winter was right around the corner. At least he wouldnt be stuck in the loft with no heat. His heart ached. He would rather be there than here. With the one person who was his home. He didnt even want to think of his name, as it would only cause him to hurt more. The truth was, Roger had been dead for almost five years, but the wound still felt fresh, and raw. He could still hear his best friend gasping on the ground, and holding onto him tightly, crying and begging for the pain to stop.

Mark paused, standing still as the wind flowed gently around him. He lowered his head, feeling as if the entire world had turned it's back on him. He was alone. Completely and utterly alone.

"Pookie!? what do you think of this one?" called Maureen. He jumped at her sudden yell, but sighed, turning around, and shrugging deeper into the jacket as he made his way back over.

Maureen and Joanne had convinced him to move out of the loft, and into an apartment near Times Square with them. They figured it would do him good to not be left alone, and he finally agreed. He saw no reason to stay in the loft where visions of a green eyed rockstar haunted him. He still heard Roger's boot steps in his ears, still felt the vibrations of the loft door slamming as he came home in a less than stellar mood. He forced a weak smile for the diva as she grinned at him.

"It's…. nice.." he murmured simply. Maureen sighed.

"Baby, you've said that for the last six we've looked at… its gonna be your home too… now come on, this is the last one we have to see today." she took his hand, and Joanne watched with a little smile as Maureen tugged him up the stairs.

Mark looked around at the last apartment. Opening the door, it lead to a simple space. It had a fire escape like the loft, and a room or two off to the right and left. Maureen watched him, and giggled a little.

"This isn't it, Mark… wait till you see where your room would be…" she tugged him towards a little spiral staircase in the corner. Mark trudged up it, but his mouth fell open at what it lead to.

It almost looked like an attic room, but bigger. There was a bathroom, and big skylight, and another separate fire escape, with a window sill that was just like the one at the loft. It had a whole view of Times Square, and the empire state building. The entire city stretched for miles. They were high up.

"I… I like it…" Mark murmured, moving all around, and taking it in. "I really like it…" he whispered, trailing his hand along the window sill with a faint smile as he imagined a tall man curling up, and falling asleep on it after being out for hours at the life. "I think this is the place." he said gently.

Maureen let out a squeal of delight before bounding back down the stairs.

"Joanne! he likes it too!"

Mark smiled a little as he leaned over the miniature wall that let him view the rest of the apartment below.

"It's right in our price range too." Joanne said with a smile. "Plus, Mark, it's right near your job, isn't it?"

Mark nodded. He had gotten a small job for a less sleazy news company than buzzline. It was located right around Times Square. Mark enjoyed the fact that he'd be able to walk to work instead of bike quickly in an effort to not be late. He'd be able to film as much as he wanted on the way.

The seller who had been following them stepped inside.

"Well…" she smiled sweetly. "What do we think?"

"We'll take it." Joanne nodded, shaking her hand. Maureen ran up to Mark, and hugged him tightly.

"Oh pookie, isn't this amazing? we're a family and we're gonna be living together… like old times." Mark returned the hold half heartedly. He realized what old times meant. Collins… Benny… Roger…

Collins had passed away before Roger. That was a wound he hadn't quite gotten over either. His heart ached even worse. He had no idea where Benny was now. Probably starting a family with Alison, as Mimi was gone too.

As Maureen let him go, and ran back to Joanne, he sank down to the floor. He pulled out his favorite picture. It had everyone on the table in the life. It was from after Maureen's protest. Mark was laughing in the photo as he was being hugged by Mimi and Roger at the same time. Maureen and Joanne leaned into each other while Collins held Angel, a wide smile on his face. He felt himself choke up as he saw how happy everyone was… how wonderful things used to be. He realized he took moments like these for granted.

He knew the day would come when all of his best friends in the world would be gone… but he never imagined how painful it would be. He held the photo a little tighter as his vision blurred with tears. He missed everyone. He missed his family. His _Real _family.

He remembered how upset Roger had been after Mimi died that next year. He was so scared the rocker would fall back to drugs, to his crippling state of depression, but to his surprise, he tried to fight it. He stayed clean. Though he was still upset, and barely left the house, he tried. Mark had been so proud of him. Roger… his Roger. His tough, strong, stubborn asshole…

"Mark? are you coming? we have to get our stuff!" Maureen called after him. He quickly wiped his tears impatiently.

"Y-yeah…" he croaked, getting to his feet. "I'm coming…" he walked back downstairs, tucking the photo into his jacket. He felt like a part of him was missing.

A few hours later, they were helping him to move his stuff out of the loft. As he handed them the final box, and they moved down and out to load the car, he paused at the doorway.

He turned around, looking around at the now empty space. He smiled a little as he remembered how it had looked this way before. How Benny had locked them out. How impressed he had been when Angel knocked the padlock from the door like it was nothing. He walked around.

He remembered how pissed he had been when he had to go back to buzzline. He paused at the bathroom door. How upset Roger had been after finding April. Helping him through withdrawal… being there for him every step of the way.

He stood in the middle of the loft. A poster off to the side caught his eye. He quickly made his way over to it. He winced as he realized what it was advertising.

It was for Roger. His picture loomed on the front. "**ROGER DAVIS"** was in white lettering at the top. Mark smiled, running his fingers over it. They must have forgotten one when they burned the rest for heat. Roger looked so handsome with short hair. He sighed sadly, but nonetheless, plucked the poster from the wall, tucking it into his jacket carefully.

He made his way into Roger's old room, looking at all the dents and scratches in the door, and walls. He knew exactly how they got there. He walked over to the window, looking down at Maureen and Joanne almost finished with packing the car. He knew he'd have to come down soon.

He gave Roger's old bed frame a gentle squeeze before moving towards the doorway. He couldn't stop a sob from escaping him as he closed the door gently behind him.

He heard Maureen calling for him a few minutes later. He moved to the doorway of the loft, looking back on it with a sigh.

"I wanna go home…" he murmured quietly before gently sliding it closed on his way out for the last time. He paused at the top of the stairs, shaking his head with a bitter chuckle at "**SURVIVAL 4 LYFE"** written in crude graffiti on the wall.

Turning his back on what had been his true home for years, he padded down the stairs for the last time, and climbed into Joanne's car. Leaning his head against the window, He felt another piece of him being torn away as he watched their old building, and the small tent city being left behind them as they drove on.

Later that night, Mark grunted as he carried in his last box. He trekked up the stairs for the last time, and put it down. Maureen and Joanne had already unpacked, and decided to go greet their new neighbors. Mark was almost finished unpacking himself, save for a few things he wanted to hang up.

He had put up small blue and white christmas lights overhead that gave his little space a cozy feel. He bent down, opening the box he dreaded the most.

It was full of pictures.

He began taping them against his only free space, the wall beside his bed. It didn't take him long to run out of room, and begin using the non-opening part of his window.

They were mostly pictures of him and Roger. He smiled a little as he hung a picture of he and Roger making a funny face at the camera. They had been drunk that night.

Another picture showed them hugging happily on the table after Maureen's protest. Another was them having a snowball fight. The next showed them laughing and leaning against each other on the couch. Another showed them on the subway. Roger was sitting up, his arm around Mark, who had his head on the taller man's shoulder, while clutching his camera tight. They were both fast asleep.

One showed Roger smiling sweetly at the cameraman, who happened to be Mark, as he was filmed playing his guitar. A lot more pictures showed them doing stupid, but funny things, and having a great time. Mark blinked away tears as he saw a picture of his and Roger's hands, holding.

His favorite picture, he put up in the center. It was Roger picking him up off the ground in a tight hug. He was laughing, and Mark was too. He couldn't get over how happy they both looked. Mark smiled as he remembered it was from after he had been staying with his sister in scarsdale for almost a year before finally coming home. He didnt expect Roger to miss him as much as he did, but sure enough, when he walked through the door, he wasn't let go for almost twenty minutes.

He longed for another one of Roger's hugs. The musician always held tight. So tight, he usually had a hard time breathing, but he didn't care. He would give anything to feel his best friend again.

He finally hung up Roger's poster last, sighing a little as he stood back, and admired his placement of all the pictures. He was exhausted from a long day of moving, and re-living pain. He finally settled down on his bed, which he had placed right beside the window. All he had to do was open the panel right next to him if he wanted to go out to the fire escape. He looked out at the city. Tomorrow, he had a busy day at work.

Miserable, he pulled Roger's jacket over himself. He closed his eyes, trying to remember what it was like when the taller man would sometimes hold him after a nightmare, and they would sleep together, cuddled up so close, they could hear the other's heartbeat.

"I miss you…" he whispered before he was crying again. He curled up tight, shutting his eyes. It wasn't long before he was asleep, holding the jacket like it was the last thing on earth.

The skylight shone down on his shaking, sleeping form as the stars gleamed brightly overhead. Time doesn't stop for anyone. The night went on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright, I dont normally do this, but I wanna get more people interested in the story, and this chapter was so much fun to write! so, enjoy people! you guys have been so good to me with all the reviews! I read and appreciate every single one! keep em comin! 3 -Kris  
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Roger watched Mark curled up with his old jacket. His eyes went wide, and a sad look worked its way onto his face as he realized how upset the filmmaker really was. He rested his hand against the glass that allowed him to view the small man with a sigh.

"I miss you too, buddy…"

In all honesty, he had no idea where he was. He had been here ever since he died. All he remembered was gasping, and holding onto Mark tightly as he felt the life draining from him. The next thing he knew, his eyes flew open. He was in some sort of field. Bright rays of golden sun stretched for miles. He almost cried as he realized this must be what people meant by "heaven." he started to run for it as he saw people looming up ahead, the view taking his breath away. His entire body felt light, and strong, and the gentle warmth started to envelop him as he got closer, but he was stopped abruptly as something caught him around the waist, and his vision went dark.

He had woken up on this dull looking platform, where he spent his days being able to peek in on Mark and the others whenever he pleased. Though, it was more of a form of torture. Seeing his favorite person so hopeless, so miserable, and not being able to a damn thing about it sucked. A lot. He wondered why he hadn't been allowed to go to the beautiful field where the others were. Was this hell? he didn't understand any of this. He knew he had been an asshole, but his karma couldn't have been that bad, could it?

He looked himself over. Was he an angel? where were his wings? He smirked as he imagined having huge, black wings like a demon. That would look sick. He couldn't wait to show Mar-... He paused. He looked down with a sigh. If this was whoever was in charge's way of guilting him for being such a douche bag, it was working.

Seeing Mark sleeping caused him to get up. Was he supposed to be the small man's guardian or something? That wouldn't make any sense. He couldn't touch him, couldn't speak to him. He was stuck behind a two way mirror with no idea what to do. He had been waiting, trying to understand for years. He began to grow impatient. A few minutes later, and he was enraged.

"HEY!" he shouted, looking around. His voice echoed. There was nobody here except for him. He saw the edges of the platform he was on. He appeared to be floating in the sky. He couldn't see anything below him. Not a city, Not land, not even a single plane. Blue sky stretched for miles. It was like he was in another dimension.

He continued to walk around towards the middle of the platform, his fists clenched at his sides.

"HELLO!?" he screamed louder, his temper getting worse. Wait until he got his hands on whoever was behind this shit. They would pay, he promised himself that.

He paused, kicking his foot against the ground angrily. "SERIOUSLY!? WHAT THE FUCK AM I HERE FOR!? WHY CAN'T I GO BACK TO THE OTHER PLACE!?" he glared around as nothing answered him.

"Y'KNOW, IF THIS IS YOUR WAY OF TRYING TO GET ME TO LEARN A LESSON, I'M NOT LEARNING JACK _**SHIT!**_" He sighed, lowering his head in defeat.

"You never did learn to control that temper of yours..."

Roger jumped in surprise as a voice sounded behind him. He whipped around, his eyes going wide. Above him loomed the shadowy, dark figure that had stopped him from joining the others so many years ago.

"You!" Roger hissed, glaring. "You're the asshole who stopped me from going to the nice looking place, with the grassy hills and shit!"

The figure paused. "Guilty as charged." it was obvious from it's deep, booming voice, that it was male.

"Why did you stop me!? Why am I here!? Who are you!? Why can't I go to the nice place!?"

The man's eyes narrowed. "Hasn't your mother ever taught you that bombarding new people you meet with questions is rude?"

Roger growled. "But you aren't new! I've seen you before, unfortunately… besides...Hasn't _your _mother ever taught you that keeping people from going to where they want to go _**is rude?**_" he mocked the being's voice.

"Your attitude will get you nowhere here, Roger." he glared at the musician. "If I recall correctly, the place you were headed for was called heaven…" his tone went cold. "However, heaven is not a place you deserve to be…"

Roger paused in disbelief.

"The fuck are you talking about!? I so deserve to be there! I'm a great guy!"

"You are selfish, and rude!" the man snarled.

"So I had a few bad days…" Roger murmured back, rubbing his neck nervously. "But I have a heart! I'm not all bad!"

The man paused. "Perhaps you're right. You're not as bad as you could be… but you're still pretty bad. You're like a house with a rotting foundation… you have an owner inside of you who keeps denying the problem even exists…" He turned away, beginning to walk off.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean- HEY! WAIT!" Roger yelled, chasing after him. "You aren't leaving me here again! I want out! I deserve to go to heaven, and if you won't let me, I'll get there my fucking self!" and with that, he lunged for the man in an effort to take him down.

He let out a scream as he was knocked back clear across the platform, skidding and tumbling until he was almost near the edge. He curled up, whimpering as visions of all the times he had made Mark cry filled his mind. He tried to shoo the memories away, but they haunted him as he whined, and held his head. He took back what he said before. _This _was torture.

He was about to get up, but before he could, he felt something slam into him like a freight train. He screamed as he was on his back, his top half hanging over the platform. He blinked open his eyes, yelping in fear as the man loomed over him. There was undeniable rage in his eyes. Roger knew he had fucked up. He suddenly felt a pair of strong hands around his throat, squeezing his airway nearly closed.

He choked and kicked as he was held over the side, his eyes wide with fear. He tried to breathe, but felt panic rise up in his chest when he could barely draw a breath.

A low snarl escaped from the being holding him there.

"You haven't the slightest idea how dire of a situation you've put yourself in…." he spat, gripping Roger's neck tighter. Roger hacked loudly, hissing in pain. "If you're in such a hurry to leave this place, perhaps I should give you a glimpse of where you're headed next…"

The being gave an evil smile. All of a sudden, Roger winced as he felt unbearable heat rising up against his body. He turned his head, screaming as he saw what waited below. Fire that scorched the lands. He shivered, wanting to cover his ears as he heard the undeniable pleads and moans of suffering people. All were begging for death. Roger's face was plastered with a look of utter horror.

"You did this to yourself, Davis… this is all your fault…" Roger winced and struggled as images of Mimi suffering came into his mind, then Mark. He whined loudly.

"You have been nothing but selfish, and disrespectful to those who loved you... you were ungrateful and rude in your final hours..."

Roger swallowed fearfully.

"You see that little blond man down there every day you're here, no?" Roger peeked over the side, the heat making him wince. He couldn't see anything else but the inferno awaiting him down below.

"Y-yeah... Mark's my best friend..." he whimpered, staring up at the man.

"He CARES ABOUT YOU!" the man roared, pushing Roger further off the side. Roger screamed and flailed. "Do you realize that!? he's been nothing but absolutely _MISERABLE_ without you! When he was by your side before you went you made **NO** effort to apologize, or make things right! you cried into his arms to comfort _YOURSELF!_"

Roger was panicking now.

"I-I was scared!" he shouted. "I was scared and upset and I didn't know I was supposed to apologize! ill apologize now! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! please dont throw me down there!" he grabbed for the taller, stronger man above him. _**"PLEASE!"**_

"It's too late for apologies! What's done is done, and there's nothing you can do! you've messed up, Roger… There's no fixing your mistakes now! you'll suffer and beg for the release of death, but you can't kill what's already dead! you'll be damned for _**ETERNITY!**_" he kept pushing Roger towards the edge until almost his whole body was being singed by the heat. Roger was so scared, he burst into tears.

"There has to be something I can do! please! give me a mission, let me try and fix things! I'M SORRY!" he screamed, sobbing harder. "I don't wanna go to hell! please dont make me, I DON'T WANNA GO!" he gazed up at the man with huge, pleading, desperate eyes. "ill do anything!" he yelled. "_**ANYTHING!"**_

The man glared down at him for awhile, silent. Roger didn't dare do anything but breathe as he was examined. Suddenly, he was being pulled away from the edge. He was still hanging, but not as far as he was before.

"You're lucky you caught me in a good mood, Roger..." he looked like he was about to speak again, however, Roger beat him to it.

"Good mood? I-if t-this is a good m-mood... I'd hate t-to see you u-pset..." he stammered, looking down.

_**"SILENCE!"**_ the tall man bellowed. Roger jumped and screamed again as he was pushed more towards the edge. He started to struggle once more, apologizing like crazy.

The man tilted Roger's head up, and stared into his eyes.

"Roger Davis..." he began, eyes narrowed. "If you had the chance to redeem yourself... to undo what was done... to make things right... would you?"

Roger looked confused. "Wh-what?"

"I'm giving you a second chance...this time, without your disease... though you dont deserve it... It's my duty to offer one to every tortured soul that comes my way... so I'll ask you again... if you had the chance to redeem yourself... to right your wrongs... Would you?"

Roger blinked, his eyes wide. He nodded quickly. Suddenly he was pulled away from the edge altogether. He sighed with relief.

"You have unfinished business, boy... now you go... and make it up to Mark... and everyone else you've been a complete prick to… You better shape up… or you're going to a fate far worse than anything imaginable.. one that'll make death seem like a merry go round… Do I make myself clear?" he glared at Roger angrily. Roger nodded quickly, whimpering a little. The man started walking away with him.

Roger quirked a brow. "Wait, so... am I going back? do I get to be reborn into something? because I was thinking maybe I could be like, a little stronger, maybe taller..." he continued to babble as he was carried towards the other edge. "Oh! maybe blue eyes... and I'd really like a nice ca-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed suddenly as he was tossed forcefully over the side. He screeched and kicked, twisting around to find any sort of purchase. Looking up, he shivered as he saw the man waving at him with a smirk on his face.

He continued to twist and fall as he saw the city approaching him below. He screamed even louder. He was headed straight for traffic.

He flailed, nearly wetting his pants as the ground got closer and closer. He shut his eyes tight. Before he could splatter, though, he found himself suddenly in the middle of the road. He breathed a sigh of relief, tilting his head back and trying to calm down.

Suddenly, screeching of tires made him yell in fear again. He curled up tight, putting his hands out in front of him in feeble defense as a car came barreling towards him. Luckily, it stopped just in time.

"THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!? GET OUTTA THE ROAD, ASSHOLE!" the driver screamed from the window. Roger jumped to his feet, taking off.

"MORON!" called another driver after him as he reached the sidewalk before disappearing down another alley. He stopped once he was out of sight, breathing heavily, and trying to calm down. His heart was beating out of his chest. His heart… he felt his skin, his chest, his heartbeat… he was alive! and according to the man who had thrown him back here, he no longer had HIV.. he had to find Mark. Now.

He turned around, looking up. He had no idea what part of the city he was in… or where Mark's new place was from here. Was he allowed to ask for directions? for help? he looked for the man. He was alone. What did he mean by right his wrongs? fix his mistakes? what was he supposed to do?

As he walked out from the alley, and started to wander in a random direction, he felt his heart ache with anticipation. It's been almost five years since he died, and all that time, he missed Mark like crazy. The thought of seeing the small man after so long made his heart jump into his throat. He couldn't wait to see him again when he found his way. He promised himself no matter what, he would redeem himself. He'd fix his mistakes, somehow, and he'd make sure to keep Mark safe. He wouldn't ever let him go again, not after all his filmmaker had been through. As he continued on, determined, he couldn't stop a smile from creeping onto his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, Sorry ive pretty much fallen off the face of the earth, I had stuff to take care of. But im back! rest assured before you gather an angry mob, the kidnap marker fic is in progress for another update! until then, enjoy another chapter of this! **

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Mark sighed as he walked along the streets of Manhattan, on his way to work. He paused every few feet to film something, as he had time to kill before his shift began.

He kept thinking about Roger. He didn't understand why, but ever since he moved into his new place, the tall man was the only thing on his mind. It was especially confusing to him considering the fact he had left the loft behind. He figured a new place would help him push the memories away where they couldn't hurt him. Keeping his gaze cast downward as he walked, he pulled Roger's jacket around him. He never left the house without it. It felt like a security blanket to him now.

He reached his job, walking to the front desk, and being checked in. He slipped his press pass around his neck. He fiddled with it until he was told to head out with one of their major reporters. They were a small news show, not very well known, but still watched anyway. Mark climbed into the backseat of the van, blinking sadly as the reporter took the passenger seat, and one of the crew members started to drive through the city towards their newest story location.

He looked out the window with a bitter chuckle. Rides like these brought him back to the time Roger had left him for Santa Fe. He had been this miserable then too, but deep down, he had hope. Roger ran away from his problems, but he always came back, whether he admitted it or not. His heart sank low in his chest. Roger wasn't going to come back this time, though.

Once they reached the story location, Mark filmed the reporter halfheartedly as she droned on. Normally, he'd be moving around, excited to find the best lighting, and angle, but these days, even doing what he loved was a chore.

Before he knew it, it was time to pack up and head home for the day. He nearly fell asleep on the ride home. He had barely gotten any sleep the night before, haunted by nightmares of Roger suffering, Roger dying all over again, just… Roger. He buried his face in his hands. The green eyed man seriously needed to move out of his head. He couldn't take seeing him without being able to talk to him, or hold him anymore. It was driving him nuts.

"Mark? you alright?" the crew member driving asked. His head snapped up. They were back at the station. The reporter had already went back inside. He gave the crew member, Dave, a polite nod and climbed from the vehicle.

"You've been really distant lately… is everything okay?" Dave asked them as they headed in. Mark checked in his equipment, and tucked his camera away into his messenger bag.

"Yeah… just fine." Mark lied smoothly, forcing a gentle smile. Dave still didn't look convinced, but let it go, walking off to his car to head come.

"You need a ride, man?" Dave called a few minutes later as he was pulling towards the road. Mark shook his head, waving his hand dismissively.

"Its okay, Dave, ill walk… but thank you." Dave shrugged.

"Alright, then. Get home safe." Mark smiled faintly.

"You too…" he watched his co worker drive away. He gently pulled his camera from his bag once he started walking, and filmed his surroundings. He panned around, smiling a little as he admired the sunset. He watched the colors happily. However, he realized he should be getting home before dark, so he picked up his pace.

As he walked on, filming every few feet, one sight he came across caused tears to fill his eyes.

"Jack, stoooop!" whined one little boy, who was running away from another. "I'm sorry! you win!"

"It's too late, Steve! there's no hope for you now! RAHHH!" Steve screamed with delight as Jack tackled him to the ground, and they wrestled on the pavement in a play fight, laughing loudly.

Mark paused, lowering his camera, heart sinking as he watched the scene unfold.

"Uncle! uncle!" Steve, the smaller boy cried. Jack soon giggled, getting off his friend, and helping him up.

"Mom says you can sleep over! come on, I got new comic books!" Steve yelled, dragging Jack towards the door. Jack smiled.

"No way! You're the best, Stevie!" the two soon closed the door behind them, their giggling could still be heard coming from the windows. Mark sat there miserably. He remembered when he and Roger were those children. When they would be gone for hours in Scarsdale together, laughing, getting into all sorts of trouble, but it never mattered, because they always had each other to fall back on… at least… they used to….

Any scrap of happiness he drew from the sunset had quickly vanished as he continued on his way, too upset and numb to even pay attention to his surroundings. He sighed as he came to a major intersection, tucking his camera away into his bag. He looked down in a trance for half a second before starting forward across the crosswalk.

He was so absorbed in his own little world, he didn't even hear the screeching tires and blaring horn of the bus as it barreled towards him.

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**Now, what kinda writer would I be if I _didn't _leave ya in suspense? review please! they inspire me!**


	4. Chapter 4

Frustrated. Very frustrated. Scratch that, he was _beyond _frustration at this point. Roger kicked a can out of his way with a snarl as he walked on, hands stuffed in his pockets. He had been wandering the city, trying to look for Mark, or Joanne, or Maureen, or anyone familiar for hours.

The only person he found that was sort of relevant was his old drug dealer. He couldn't figure out why he was so far from his usual location, but Roger had taken delight in scaring the living shit out of him by pretending to be an angry demon, returning from the afterlife. The dealer, who knew Roger was dead, had screamed at the top of his lungs, and for once in his life, his smug smile was nowhere to be found as he darted out of sight, whimpering like a dog with it's tail in between it's legs.

He wondered if that was going to fuck up his chances of coming back to heaven, but considering the dealer wasn't exactly a saint himself, he figured it was okay. Besides, the man who threw him back here hadn't grabbed him and sent him to hell for it, so he figured he was safe. He smiled to himself, laughing a little as the dealer's reaction kept replaying itself in his mind.

His laughter soon stopped as he remembered what he was looking for. Mark. Okay, how hard could a dorky filmmaker be to find? He sighed. The city was a huge place. This might take longer than he hoped.

He wandered along a sidewalk, but something made him look up. His eyes went wide as he sure enough, saw a familiar blond head walking along, tucking his camera into a bag at his side.

Mark! he felt his heart start to race. He looked around. He was too far away to call out to him, so he picked up his pace to catch up. He was across the street, but was soon almost close enough to yell the small man's name.

However, something made his heart nearly stop with anxiety. Mark was wandering right into the middle of traffic. He looked caught up in his own little world, and wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings. Fuck, did Mark _want _to become roadkill? of all the times he zoned out at the worst possible moments, this one took the cake. Roger nearly screamed as he suddenly heard a horn blare. Screeching tires followed, and he jumped as he saw a bus heading full speed for the shorter man. It didn't have enough time to stop.

Roger was moving forward like a bullet as adrenaline pumped through him. His eyes narrowed in determination. He had promised himself he would keep his best friend safe, no matter what the cost. He had been sent back for a reason, and hey, if he wasn't given a purpose other than "_Fix what you've done wrong"_, then he would make himself one. He was Mark's protector. He always had been, and always would be. Even something like dying, and coming back could never hope to change that.

Before he knew it, he was a few feet away from the small blond.

"MARK, LOOK OUT!" he screamed. He didn't have the time to grab and pull him out of the way, so he used his momentum to his advantage, and threw himself forward with as much force as he could muster, tackling his friend out of the way just in time as the bus skidded past. A second later, and they both would have painted the roadway.

He wrapped himself around the small man, acting like a shell, keeping him pressed into his chest with his arms around him protectively as they tumbled and rolled for awhile, Roger taking the brunt of the concrete hits every time they bounced. Soon, they came to a stop in an alley all the way across the intersection. Roger was shaking with adrenaline, still holding Mark tightly to him. His eyes were shut tight, and his breathing was ragged. A few minutes later, after realizing the danger had passed, he began to slowly un-tense, and he gently uncurled himself, loosening his hold ever so slightly, and looking down at Mark with concern.

"Christ, Mark! you almost got hit! what were you thinking!? were you even thinking at all!? Are you okay!? pay attention next time! Holy shit…"

Mark lifted his head from his chest, looking at him with wide, frightened blue eyes. He was shaking like a leaf. When he realized who had saved him, his jaw dropped. He was about to speak, but he suddenly looked sick. Roger quirked a brow. However, he had no time to ask what was wrong as the filmmaker's eyes rolled back in his head. He groaned, and fainted, his body going limp in Roger's arms.

Roger sat there, silent for a moment as he processed what had just happened. He looked at Mark in disbelief.

"Oh, fuck me…." he groaned, grabbing the short man's shoulders, and shaking them gently. "Mark? oh god dammit, Mark! dont do this to me now! today of all days?" he patted Mark's cheek with his hand quickly. However, when he realized Mark was out cold, he sighed in frustration. "Mother fucker…"

He still sat there, keeping Mark close, and brushing a stray lock of hair off his forehead gently. The albino looked exhausted. Like he hadn't been sleeping for days. He felt pity well up inside of him. All of their friends had died quickly… he must have been going through a lot. He leaned down, kissing Mark's forehead before starting to go through his pockets.

"There's gotta be an address somewhere… since you aren't in the loft anymore…" he murmured sadly, recalling how upset he had been when he learned Mark was leaving their old place behind. Maybe he could convince him to move back, like old times when he woke up.

Pretty soon, he found what he was looking for, and sighed. He knew where Mark lived, he recognized the street name. It was only a few blocks away. He blinked sadly, scooping Mark up into his arms carefully as he walked out of the alley, and through the city streets. Night had now fallen.

A few minutes later, he walked into the apartment. He looked around. Nobody was home. He picked up a note that was left on the table. The careful, neat handwriting told him it was from Joanne.

"_Mark… Maureen and I are going out for dinner and a show. Won't be back until late. Dinners in the oven for you." -Joanne. _

Roger sighed in relief. He wouldnt have to deal with anymore scared, fainting people until morning. He carefully carried Mark up into his little loft space, smiling a little as he saw all the pictures of them that coated the walls. He rested Mark down on the bed, and disappeared back down the stairs, to soon climb back up with a cold, damp towel. He patted Mark's forehead with it, looking down sadly as he realized the smaller man probably wouldnt come to until morning. He walked downstairs, and opened the oven, beginning to eat Mark's dinner.

He would deal with the consequences later. He was hungry. He giggled to himself as he went back up to Mark, and sat on the edge of the bed, eating quietly.

"Youre a handful sometimes, y'know that?" Roger murmured to him. He looked so peaceful now. Though Roger knew it was from shock, he was glad Mark's body in a way, had forced him to take it easy.

Once he finished eating, he ended up curling up on the windowsill, and closing his eyes, Mark's scarf wound tightly around his neck. He couldn't help but smile. He had missed this.


	5. Chapter 5

Mark groaned as his whole world felt like it was spinning. His head ached, and he felt sick. He had the strangest dream, about being saved from a terrible accident by… Roger. The musician's name only caused him to wince in pain again. He sat up with a sigh, whimpering as his eyes shut tight, fighting to feel less nauseous. He put his face in his hands.

"Oh, good! youre awake… I was starting to worry."A familiar, deep voice murmured. He felt a hand touch his shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Mark slowly lifted his gaze from his hands, and looked up, his jaw dropping once more at who he saw looming above him.

Roger narrowed his eyes. "Hey, Mark… don't you faint on me again…"

Mark let out a gasp of shock. It wasn't a dream. Roger really _had _saved him after all! He blinked a few times, and couldn't stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. A smile spread across his face. A wide, genuine smile. He started laughing brightly.

"ROGER!" he screamed, lunging forward, and nearly bringing the taller man down to the floor in a tight, desperate embrace. "Y-you're alive! youre b-back! you came back to me!" he shook Roger with excitement before crushing him in another hug. He nuzzled his best friend lovingly before burying his face in his neck, still holding tight. His voice was muffled into a delighter whisper as his tears began soaking Roger's shirt. "Y-you came back…"

Roger wheezed in surprise at how tight Mark was holding him, but it finally clicked in his head, and he returned the hold just as tight, giggling with happiness.

"...'Course I did…." he whispered, beginning to run his fingers through Mark's hair. "I always do, don't I?"

Mark ignored him, too busy crying and clutching him tightly to answer just yet. He soon pulled away slightly, looking up at Roger with big, tear soaked eyes.

"B-but how?" he murmured. He started looking Roger over before reaching up happily to touch his face, giggling at the familiar feel of stubble. "Wh-why?" He suddenly looked afraid. "W-wait… am… am I dead?"

Roger quickly shook his head. "N-no… Mark, youre not… youre very much alive…"

Mark tilted his head. "I want an explanation. Now. I've been absolutely miserable for five years, Roger!"

Roger sighed. "I know, I know… but… I dont… I dont really have one…" he pulled Mark closer to him, who cuddled closer into his arms with a gentle sigh. "One minute i'm with you, right? then I die… and I wake up in this really great place… it had grass, and… and sunshine, and… it felt so wonderful… so I started to go for it… but then… some guy stopped me."

Mark looked up. "Wh-who?"

Roger shook his head. "I dunno… but… next thing I know, everything is dark… and when I wake up again… i'm on this weird platform somewhere… and I could see you! through a little glass panel… but I couldn't talk to you, or reach out to you… and it was awful…" he held Mark tighter.

"Th-then what happened?" Mark stammered.

"Then… the same guy who put me there… after five years… suddenly shows up again… and I got mad… and I tried to hurt him…" He paused, shivering a little. "He told me I fucked up… that I was nothing but selfish, and rude during my time on earth, and that… I was headed for h-hell… if I didn't shape up…" He blinked. "He said a guy like me didn't… didn't _deserve _to go to heaven…"

Mark looked up in disbelief. "R-Rog…" he whispered sadly.

"So… so then he says… I got one chance… to do it over… to redeem myself… to prove I belong in heaven, and he'll save me from having to go… _there _instead…" He whined a little. "I mean, I dont even know what i'm supposed to do! I figured it was to keep you safe, but.. what mistakes have I made? I can't save April from her suicide, or get Mimi off smack… it's… it's too late for them, Mark…" he felt tears well up in his eyes. "And… and it's too late for m-me too…"

He whimpered as Mark brushed away his tears gently with his thumb, looking at him head on.

"R-Roger, don't say that…." he whispered. "We're not gonna let you end up in hell, I promise you that… we're gonna figure out something… like we always do..."

Roger still didn't look convinced. "But what if w-we don't!? Mark, I can't go to hell! I cant! I won't be able to take it! It was horrible… I saw glimpses, Mark… it was so hot… burning… people screaming and begging to die… b-but…" he remembered the being's angry warning. "But you can't kill wh-what's already d-dead…" he felt panic rising up in his chest.

"But we will." Mark said firmly. Roger looked up at him sadly. "Roger, I won't let you be taken there… I'll fight whoever this man is tooth and nail before he gets his hands on you… I'll be by your side no matter what… like always…" he smiled at the rocker gently. "Now that I finally have you back, I'm never losing you again..." Roger smiled a little himself, resting his head against Mark's chest.

"God, I missed you… you little fuck…" Mark giggled.

"I missed you too, asshole…" Mark replied. He hummed happily, beginning to stroke Roger's hair, and smiling to himself as the tall man purred with delight. He always loved his hair being touched. They lay together like that for what seemed like hours, just holding each other, and enjoying the other's presence. After what seemed like forever, they were reunited once more.

"Marrrrrky?" The color drained from Mark's face. Shit. Maureen and Joanne were home. If they saw Roger, they would flip. Especially Maureen. He needed more time to gather his explanation together.

"Rog… you have to hide…" He whispered in panic as he heard Maureen coming for the stairs. "Closet. Now." he yanked him up from the bed, and quickly shoved him in. Roger was about to protest, but any sound he made was muffled as Mark slammed the door just in time as Maureen poked her head up.

"Hey baby…" she murmured with a smile. "Sleep well?"

Mark nodded quickly. "Mhmm! you?"

She grinned. "I slept nicely, thanks." she moved towards him. She saw his closet and suddenly bounced with excitement. "Oh! let me pick out your outfit for today! I'll make you look so handsome!" Mark felt his heart drop as she reached for the door knob. He quickly threw himself in her way, laughing nervously.

"Mo, come on, now… I can dress myself." Maureen smirked.

"Pookie, you never let me have any fun! now, move! I wanna pick out your outfit!" she insisted, trying to move him aside. He wouldn't budge.

"Maureen, you really shouldn't open that…"

"What are you hiding?"

"N-nothing! can't a guy have some privacy? g-geez…"

"AHA! you _ARE_ hiding something!"

"Am not!"

"Then let me see."

Mark sighed with desperation. There was no getting out of it, now. Maureen wouldn't stop until she got a look of what was inside. Mark figured it was now or never. The sooner he revealed Roger, the better things would turn out. Defeated, he stepped aside. He winced as she yanked the door open.

Roger tumbled out with a loud grunt. He rubbed his head, blinking up at Maureen with a glare.

Her ear splitting scream bounced around the small space, causing Mark to cover his ears. She stumbled back away from Roger until she hit the wall. Joanne was with them at once, yelling and asking if Maureen was alright. However, when she saw Roger on the ground, she screamed too.

"Y-you're dead!" Maureen cried, holding onto Joanne in fear. "You… what are you doing here!? _How_ are you here!?" Roger got to his feet with a groan, brushing himself off.

"Are you a ghost!? are you angry with us!?" Joanne yelped, pulling Maureen closer. Mark laughed a little. Both women shot him a confused look.

"I'm not a ghost… I'm very much alive…" Roger answered, looking up at them. "I'm not angry with anyone… I'm here… to make things right." when he was met with even more confused stares, he launched into the same story he had told Mark. By the end of it, they were listening in interest.

"Oh, Roggy…." Maureen murmured, tears running down her face. She suddenly ran forward, crushing the tall man in a hug. He sighed a little, returning it. "We've missed you so much…" he gave a small smile.

"I missed you guys too…" he whispered, stroking Maureen's hair affectionately. She pulled away slightly, and smiled at him, stretching up, and kissing his cheek. A little blush creeped onto his face. She ruffled his hair playfully before stepping back.

"We're gonna help you redeem yourself, Roger…" Joanne whispered, moving forward to hug the rocker herself. "Whatever it takes… we're here for you… every step of the way… we won't let you be sent to that awful place." Roger smiled.

"Thank you guys…. so much…" his smile didn't last long. "But…. what am I supposed to do? I mean, I saved Mark's life! wouldn't that be enough?"

Mark blinked in confusion. "Maybe you're my guardian? maybe it's your job…"

Roger shook his head. "No, no, no! The guy told me I had to right my wrongs… but.. I don't know what my wrongs even are!"

Joanne tilted her head. "He _did _say you were selfish, and rude… maybe you need to show him that those things aren't true."

"But, how!?" Roger cried, desperate. "I… what am I supposed to do? feed orphans? rescue kittens from burning buildings? I don't exactly have an instruction booklet here…"

"We could do good deeds!" Maureen chirped, running to his side. "Tomorrow, you can come with me to tent city to give out blankets to the homeless. You can help me protest the unfair treatment of the less fortunate! We can send a message! the man who put you here will see that, won't he?"

Roger sighed. "I dont know if that's what he meant, though… maybe I'm supposed to start crying and begging to be forgiven for my mistakes…"

"You can't be forgiven yet, Roger." Joanne replied. "You dont even know what you've done." Roger looked down.

"Lets give everything a try at least once… that way, we can narrow down what works, and what doesn't… okay?" Mark murmured, resting a comforting hand on Roger's shoulder. Roger nodded.

"So, then! protesting with me it is." Maureen said with excitement. Joanne looked up.

"Then, maybe the day after that, you can come with me to defend clients who were falsely accused." Maureen nodded quickly.

"Then me and you can walk the city with some food, give it to people who need it most." Mark added, patting Roger's back. Roger nodded.

"It's all we can do until I get some sort of sign…" he leaned against Mark.

"It's gonna be okay, Roggy… you'll see." Roger smiled at him.

"Thank god for optimists…" Mark giggled a little in response.

"I'm ready to fix things." Roger murmured to himself as Mark walked towards the kitchen to make him his coffee. "I _will_ make everything right." he looked towards the window, hoping the man could hear him now. "No matter what."

* * *

**Gotta love those fluffy reunions 3 hope you enjoyed! -Kris**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys. I am still currently on hiatus, but I got inspiration to update this fic. Hiatus for me means there will be no guarantee on when I will post updates, or reply to private messages. **

**Sidenote: Just because Mark and Roger cuddle/hold hands, does not mean they HAVE to date yet. They have a special connection, and whether or not that leads to romance will be up to me. thanks.**

* * *

With a sigh, Roger leaned against the cold brick wall behind him. He and Maureen had been handing out fliers and advertising her latest protest against the unfair treatment of the homeless all morning. He was exhausted. He still didn't see how this was going to help his case.

Mark had got him up bright and early. They weren't planning on moving back to the loft anytime soon, so for now, the cramped apartment was his home. He and Mark now shared a bed, since Maureen and Joanne didn't have a guest room. Roger didn't mind, it wasn't as if he hadn't ever slept in the same bed as his best friend before. Mark refused to let him sleep on the cold floor, and since the bed wasn't that big, Mark usually ended up sprawled out on top of the rocker, with his face buried in Roger's neck by morning, anyway.

Roger didn't object.

Mark was warm.

Soon, Maureen had thankfully decided to pack up for the time being, and she and Roger began to head for the apartment, Roger carrying all of the poster boxes, grunting with effort, while Mo skipped ahead of him, rambling about her next protest idea. They soon walked into the apartment, Roger dropping the boxes with a sigh. Joanne was still at work.

"You're home…" Mark murmured, his eyes lighting up a little once he saw them. He quickly moved to Roger's side, and hugged him tightly.

That was one thing Rog had noticed. Ever since he came back, Mark was beyond clingy, becoming fussy when Maureen wanted Roger to help her, watching the tall man closely, even holding onto him, and trailing after his every move as if he would disappear again at a moments notice.

Roger couldn't blame him, though.

Mark had been through a lot.

Roger smiled a little, and returned the hold. His face began to heat up as Mark kissed his cheek.

"I'm so proud of you…" the small man murmured.

"Thanks…." Roger whispered, and once Mark let go, he sat on the couch. Mark joined him, leaning his head against the taller man's shoulder.

"Why don't you two go out?" asked Maureen with a smile. "I've been having Roger working for hours… some downtime wouldn't kill him. Mark, you can film too, you haven't filmed in so long."

"No." Mark murmured. "If I'm spending time with Roger, that's what I'm doing. No distractions." Maureen nodded a bit.

"Then get outta here. I have to clean anyway."

"Thanks, Maureen!" Mark yelled, and grabbed Roger's arm, tugging him out the door.

They walked together down the street, planning to go to central park. Roger had always loved it there. As they walked, Mark suddenly held Roger's hand, lacing their fingers together.

Roger smiled a little, giving his best friend's hand a gentle squeeze. They got a few looks as they walked by, but Roger didn't care. It had been so long since he saw Mark this happy, this light. He missed him so much.

Once they made it to the park, it began to snow.

Roger watched with happiness. He always loved the snow. He missed how the chilled flakes felt on his skin. It was snowing pretty heavily, and after two hours of walking around, and talking, a steady blanket had collected on the ground. Roger, feeling playful, gave Mark a shove into a snowbank, and took off, laughing.

"Get back here! Roger!" Mark yelled, laughing himself as he gave chase. Roger thought he was safe when he hid behind a tree, but once he stepped out, he grunted in surprise as Mark tackled him.

They rolled around in the snow in a playfight, growling and giggling. Roger tried to get the upper hand, but suddenly, Mark straddled him, pinning him down with two hands on his shoulders. Roger managed to prop himself up a bit on his elbows, about to hit the small man again, when he suddenly found the filmmaker staring at him.

His icy blue eyes were wide, and his cheeks were flushed as he looked Roger over. Roger's playful scowl suddenly faded, as he began to mirror Mark's bewildered expression.

The two never had a moment like this before. They had cuddled once, held hands often, but for them, it was kind of normal. They never had to attach romance onto it. Somehow though, the air around them now seemed different.

Without warning, Mark's lips were suddenly on his. The sparks he felt in the kiss caused his eyes to fall closed as he returned it, his fingers tangling in Mark's hair. He never wanted this to end. He hadn't felt this good in so long.

Alarms in the back of his mind caused him to quickly pull away after a minute. The hurt in Mark's eyes caused him to flinch.

"We can't do this…" Roger murmured, and it was true, they couldn't. Roger's second chance wasn't a guarantee.

"I know…" Mark replied. He was so scared of losing him again.

Without another word, Mark climbed off him, and they walked back to the apartment in silence.

They didn't hold hands this time.


End file.
